


In Ruins

by whoisalfy



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 03:32:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11751174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoisalfy/pseuds/whoisalfy
Summary: A kingdom run by three men, each with their own personal assassin. The Mad King Ryan, the Noble King Jack, and the Wise King Geoff rule in tandem with their young recruits doing all the dirty work of the kingdom in the shadows.





	In Ruins

“It’s rainin’ again, ma. Did ya close up the barn tonight?” 

A quiet affirmation came from the rocking chair in the corner. The older woman didn’t look up from her work as she patched up an old coat by the fire. Her son, too old to be living with his mother, closed the shutters on the windows discontentedly. He disliked the rain, but hated it all the more in dark. 

“I’m headed to bed. Leavin’ at sunrise,” the man mumbled as he walked towards the back of the small house. He gestured to the only other room and grumbled, “I borrowed your old quilt. Gets too cold out in that loft.” 

“Pay mind to it. I don’t want to be patchin’ anymore of your messes,” the woman warned. 

“‘Night ma.” The man stepped out into the rain and pulled the door roughly behind him. He used his hands to shield his eyes and made his way quickly to the barn in the field near the house. The rain came down in sheets, soaking him within seconds. The large drops splattered harshly against his skin, each one irritating him more. Thunder clapped in the distance, and the man thought he heard a wild dog howling as it did. 

It felt like a long journey before he finally got to the barn door. As he entered and pushed the door closed, he shook off the rain and his worry of the wilderness outside. A stench hit him like a wall and he gagged.  _ Perhaps I should have taken the time yesterday to get rid of those rabbits,  _ he thought, regretting leaving yesterday’s hunt in the barn. Trying his best to forget the awful smell, he leaned back on the door and sighed. He’d let his paranoia get the better of him in the last few weeks, and for good reason. It hadn’t taken him long to decide to abandon his family’s farm and skip town, and he was finally leaving come morning. With a debt to the king that only grew as the days passed, he knew he would need to leave soon or become a public example as he would be punished in whatever humiliating and torturous way the king could think of. 

It would be risky, but the man couldn’t stay any longer. He quickly climbed the ladder into the loft and moved to the darkest corner. Pulling back a loose board, he yanked two packs out of the space and spilled the contents out in front of himself. Checking closely, he went down a list in his head.  _ Bag of silver, two loaves of bread, map, mother’s old jewels, three apples, a skin of water, father’s hunting knife, and the quilt.  _ He knew which way to ride in order to get to the nearest town, and he knew his plan well.  _ Sell mother’s jewels, leave town, ride until nightfall, make camp near the river side, ride through the next day until reaching Riverfall, sail away from this dreadful place. _

He sighed, content with his plan, and shoved all of his things back into the bags. “Time to check the horse and then maybe I can finally rest,” he tried to reason with himself. Pushing the bags back into the corner, he began climbing back down the ladder. In the distance he swore he could hear another howl, but in an effort to calm his nerves he convinced himself it was nothing. He fumbled around in the dark for a moment before finding an old torch to light. As he lit it, he noticed that all he could hear was the rain pouring down outside. He thought it odd that the hadn’t heard the horse at all. With a small panic in his chest, he rushed over to the stable. 

Never in his life had this man felt a fear so strongly grip him and shake him out of reality until he looked at where his horse had stood. In its place were red stained bones piled up in a puddle of blood. Offal and slabs of meat stuck in the hay in gruesome mounds. Blood was smeared heavily on the walls, distinct handprints littering the wood. The man staggered backwards, nearly falling. He swung the torch in a panic, only to shine light on more gore. Strung up from the rafters above the stall was the horse’s head; a rope running through its skull by the eye sockets. The man felt a scream hitch in his throat that wouldn’t escape. His chest was tightening and his breathing was shallow. He quickly spun around, searching for whatever did this. 

On the ground near the stable were smaller puddles of blood, leading towards the back of the barn. The man could see more chunks of animal following the line, the white fur suggesting that his rabbits were not spared in the attack. He reluctantly followed the line of horror, thinking that maybe if this were an animal’s doing he could reach his ax before it attacked him. But he knew this was no animal attack. Something vicious had come to warn him.  _ Someone _ ... 

Suddenly the barn door blasted apart from the center, sending splinters and shreds of wood every which way. The man spun around, throwing his torch in fear, maybe even anger. Growling could be heard from the gaping hole in the barn. Thunder clapped furiously and lightning struck the sky. In the brief light the man could see the outline of a large human-like figure with what seemed to be a bear’s pelt across his shoulders and head. At his feet were two huge wolves snarling loudly. The rain was deafening, but somehow the man could still hear the wolves and the heavy huffing of this stranger as if they were only inches away. 

Falling back, fearing for his life, and realizing that his plan was only hours too late, the man began sobbing. He backed himself into a corner quickly, his mind drawing blanks on any way to escape. As the monster stepped closer, the torch on the ground illuminated his lower half. His face could barely be seen, though the glint of his large sword was frightening enough. 

“P-please...please...” the man begged between sobs. 

The wolves growled angrily as the stranger bent slightly, leaning in just enough for the man to see his face. His expression was hard, his brow furrowed. Red lines dripped from his face as if he’d used the blood of the animals as war paint. He glared the man in the eyes and raised the tip of his sword to the man’s throat. 

“The Mad King sends his regards.” 


End file.
